


Don't Even Need to Buy a New Dress

by Allekha



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Crossdressing, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time Together, Jealousy, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Making Out, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25497031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: When Georgi's girlfriend breaks up with him shortly before he was supposed to take her to his cousin's summer birthday party, Victor offers to dress up as a girl and go in her stead. It's such a stupid idea, and not least because of Georgi's ever-present jealousy after Victor recently became a teenage Olympic champion.And yet.If it worked, it could distract him from his heartbreak so he could enjoy himself for the weekend instead of moping around.
Relationships: Victor Nikiforov/Georgi Popovich
Comments: 39
Kudos: 43
Collections: Rare Ships!!! on BINGO 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rare Ships on Bingo squares: Victor/Georgi + house visits

Re-reading his favorite messages from Lyuba yet again, Georgi sniffled. At least practice this morning had gone well, but even that and the smell of lunch couldn't distract him from the pain in his heart.

What he wanted to do was to wallow in the corner of the cafeteria with his eggs and his salad and his phone until he had to go to dance, trying to work through the pain of his very recent break-up. Naturally, he didn't get that; Victor bounded over and sat down next to him, far too bright and happy for Georgi's mood. "Your quad toe is really coming along!" he said, and then he must have picked up on something, because he shut up and peered at Georgi.

Georgi really, really wasn't in the mood for Victor trying to be friendly with him right now. "Lyuba broke up with me last night," he told him, snapping his phone closed and bending over to shove it in his bag.

"Oh," said Victor, much more subdued. "That sucks. I thought she was really into you?"

"So did I." He sniffled again and reached for his food, stabbing it with his fork. Victor didn't find some excuse to flutter off again, so Georgi figured he might as well use the chance to let some of his feelings out. He wasn't going to get a good chance to cry until he went home for the night. "Just a couple of days ago we were both saying 'I love you', and then last night she tells me she doesn't think it's working!"

"That's mean," Victor said, drawing the sounds of the word out. "You shouldn't say stuff like that if you don't truly feel it."

"Right?" At least Victor was okay at being sympathetic sometimes. "I always wait until I know I mean it."

"Then it's her loss."

Georgi shoved a piece of carrot into his mouth and winced at the harsh snapping sound it made as it crunched between his teeth. "And in a couple of weeks we were supposed to go to my cousin's birthday party together, and – I bought the train tickets and everything already, she was looking forward to meeting my girlfriend, and now I have to go there alone and explain that hey, she didn't actually love me like she _said she did_." He blinked back the beginnings of tears in his eyes and forced another forkful of salad into his mouth, not tasting any of it. "It's going to be awful."

"I'm sure they'll understand," said Victor, a note of uncertainty in his voice, and Georgi finally looked up to glare at him.

"That's not the point," he snapped. "It's just – it's a day for my cousin, not for me, but we're really close and she'll feel bad for me and I'll have to tell everyone when I just want to forget that it's happening, and I was really looking forward to spending some time with her! And getting away from skating for a weekend and just being normal."

"Oh," Victor said again. His fork scratched against his plate as he fidgeted with it. "I guess you're probably not going to get another girlfriend in the next couple of weeks."

"It takes time for the heart to heal, Vitya," Georgi said with a sigh, and then they fell into silence for a few minutes.

Nothing tasted right. The eggs were rubbery, the salad either too crunchy or too soggy every other bite. Even his water didn't taste that good. It was water. It wasn't supposed to taste like anything. Georgi choked it all down anyway.

"If you at least had someone to go with you," Victor said out of nowhere, "you wouldn't have to explain all of that and feel weird and everything, right?"

Georgi chewed his last bite of salad and considered it. "I guess. But I'm not asking someone to pretend to be my girlfriend just to make me feel better about a party."

"What if someone offered?"

"I'm not letting you volunteer anyone at the rink on my behalf, either."

"I wasn't going to!" Victor dropped his utensils and put a finger to his lips. Oh, no. Georgi knew that look. It was the one that Victor put on when he'd either had a brilliant idea or a really stupid one. "I could go with you!"

Georgi blinked at him once, twice, then shook his head. Forget everything else wrong with that idea (and there was a lot).... "I told them I have a girlfriend, not a boyfriend. So I'd still have to explain. That doesn't solve _anything_."

Victor shrugged. "So I'll go as your girlfriend. I bet I just need to put on a dress and act a little differently. People already say I look pretty girly anyway."

He said it lightheartedly, but Georgi knew for a fact that a lot of those people hadn't said it nicely, and they'd said it where Victor could hear them. Even though Victor wasn't _girly_ simply because he had long hair or big eyes or sometimes painted his nails, and even if he was, that shouldn't have mattered. It wasn't like girls were less awesome skaters in any way because they were girls. Some people were just jealous.

(Georgi was jealous, but at least he was jealous in the nice, hidden, motivational way that Yakov approved of and not the nasty-rumor-spreading glass-in-skates kind of way.)

Anyway, this was definitely one of Victor's stupid ideas. "Even if you _could_ make yourself look like a convincing girl, why would you do that for my cousin's party?"

"It sounds like fun to try it," Victor said with a little laugh. "And so does the party. It's nice that you're so close to your cousin! I don't have any inviting me to their birthdays. I'm not sure I have any at all, actually."

Georgi didn't know what was up with Victor's family – Victor never talked about it – but he did know that Victor had mostly lived with Yakov and Lilia for a few years now. If it had been another time, another mood, maybe he would have felt a little sorry for him, no matter how dumb his idea was.

But Victor's light smile in the face of Georgir's heartbreak and the idea of him wanting to play this cute game of pretend and Georgi's own unhappiness boiled up and no, he'd far rather go cry to his cousin. He couldn't bear to think of pretending to be in love with Victor of all people for a weekend when he could be forgetting about everything that went on at the rink for a couple of days instead.

"I'll just go by myself," he said, gathering his things and standing. Victor opened his mouth, and more words slipped out, tinged with all the things that were upsetting him. "Aren't you busy with all your post-Olympics PR? I bet you have something better to do than go to birthday parties."

Victor paused, looking almost hurt. It felt good to see that expression. Victor could get over it. He was the one with consistent quads and an Olympic gold, after all.

Georgi went to his dance class and ignored Victor when they were back at the rink and tried and mostly failed to land his damn quad toe.

That night, he re-read his messages with Lyuba again and cried a lot, and the next night, too, and also the next. Victor didn't try to talk with him, though one of Yakov's older students bought him ice cream and told him that he'd find someone he deserved. Georgi knew that, but it didn't help his broken heart feel better _now_.

A few days later, his cousin called briefly to confirm when he was arriving and everything. "I can't wait to see you," she said. "It's been forever! We need to see each other more often. Yes, I know, you're busy. And your girlfriend is coming too, right? What's her name? Sasha?"

"Oh, no, um. Sasha and I broke up a while ago."

"Argh. Sorry, sorry, you know how I am with names."

"It's okay, Yana," he said, feeling his stomach sinking into the ground. He leaned against his bed, curled up with his phone to his ear, and told himself he should just tell her. She would understand. They could eat cake and do whatever else she wanted and have a fun time, and he could forget about Lyuba.

"I've been trying to get better about it, but I swear it _still_ happens all the time, like someone from school comes up to me and I can remember them well enough to talk for an hour but not what they're called. Actually, it happened last week with this guy from my math class, damn, what was his name again...."

Lyuba, who he'd dated for what felt like so long, who had greeted him at the airport after Euros with kisses and told him it was unfair he hadn't been sent to the Olympics or Worlds, who had made him a beautiful cake for his birthday. Lyuba, who had said she loved him and left reminders of herself all over his room and then stomped all over his heart. Georgi blinked back another round of tears.

Just tell her, he thought, but the words didn't come from his mouth as Yana chattered happily in his ear. He couldn't force them.

He remembered Victor's idea. It was still stupid. But Georgi didn't _really_ hate Victor and Victor owed him a favor anyway and maybe if they tried it, then he could try to move on from Lyuba and find new love in his own time, without having to spill it all over Yana while the feeling was still raw. Couldn't he? Maybe it would be easier. Maybe.

Although he really shouldn't lie to his cousin. But still his throat felt closed, choked.

 _Victor, Victoria_ , he thought, and it was easier to interrupt Yana's story and say, "Her name's Vika."

"Oh, right!" she said, with such a bright tone that he knew she really had forgotten, like she always did. "Well, I look forward to seeing both of you. Especially my most favorite cousin."

They said their good-byes, and when they'd hung up, Georgi groaned as he dropped his phone to the bedspread. He didn't even know if Victor could pull this off, or if he'd still be willing to do it. Maybe he should call her back.

But he didn't. The next day, he spotted Victor fidgeting alone in a hallway, probably waiting for Yakov to finish something so they could go home. Georgi hesitated, but either he had to ask Victor or he had to call Yana back, and – maybe having Victor around would distract him from thinking of Lyuba? Georgi didn't really want to spend his cousin's birthday weekend moping. He wanted to have a good time and smile with her. And she didn't deserve to feel bad for him when it was her birthday.

He bit his lip, and then he squared his shoulders and walked over. "Hi," he said.

Victor looked up and put on a smile, despite how little they'd spoken this week. "Hi!"

"You can come to the party, if you still want to," he said.

Victor's smile got wider, somehow more real. "Really? Sure! It's not like I'm doing anything else that weekend. And you want me to look the part, right?"

This was such a bad idea. But maybe Victor was right. Maybe it would be kind of fun. "Right," he said, and Victor put his finger to his lips.

~!~

Georgi arrived early at the train station and texted his cousin to remind her of when they would be arriving. When he looked up, it wasn't hard to spot Victor. Nobody else had hair like that, not even the couple of people he'd seen who had bleached theirs in imitation.

Sure enough, Victor was wearing a dress, and after he spotted Georgi, he waved and hurried over. "How do I look?" he asked, spinning on the spot.

Georgi had to admit that Victor had done a good job choosing the outfit to suit him. The dress was pretty, an airy blue thing with loose sleeves, embroidered with flowers and edged in eyelet lace. As he twirled and posed for Georgi, the full skirt swung out over his hips, emphasizing his narrow waist. Afterward, he made a face as he pushed his loose hair back out of his face and re-adjusted the small overnight bag on his back.

He did look a _lot_ like a girl ready for a summer party. A fit girl with a small chest, maybe. But there were girls like that at the rink. Though Victor wasn't the bulkiest skater, the transformation was surprising; Georgi suspected he'd chosen the dress carefully. It wasn't as though anyone would mistake him for a girl when he was in his practice clothes.

"You look lovely," said Georgi, the words coming awkwardly. That was the kind of thing he saved for girlfriends. Not for people like Victor. But Victor beamed, acting his part perfectly, and leaned in to hug Georgi's arm.

He clung as Georgi steered them to their platform, and it was more than a little weird. Georgi had never seen Victor on a date before, or with a boyfriend, and knowing the attention was fake didn't help. Victor was taller than any girlfriend he'd ever had, too, right around his height in his flats, his weight pressing differently into Georgi's than he was used to. Georgi liked tall girls like any others – especially liked ones with long legs that looked amazing in a skirt – but with this being _Victor_ it just added to his unease.

They had a pair of seats to themselves on the train, Georgi taking the one by the large window. Victor paused to arrange the skirt of his dress as he sat down; its blue wasn't a half-bad match for the color of the seat's fabric. Then he leaned into Georgi. "So, where are we going again?" he asked when the doors shut and the last few people were sitting down.

Georgi glanced down at Victor's pale legs; his knees were pressed together and his ankles halfway crossed, his hands neatly in his lap. Did Victor normally sit like that? This was so strange. It was like Victor was both a stranger and the guy he'd known for ages at the same time.

"Novgorod," he said. "It's about three hours."

"Oh! I've been there before. Maybe ten years ago? My mom and I went during summer. I remember seeing all the old buildings. At first she was dragging me around, and then she got tired and complained that I was dragging _her_ around. You must have seen them all."

"It's not like we sightsee every time we visit family, but yeah." Victor's voice was bothering him; it had taken longer to drop than Georgi's, and it hadn't turned out as low, but now it was incongruent with his appearance. Georgi felt awkward mentioning it – this whole situation was awkward, from Victor's hair tickling his arm with every movement of his head to the idea that they were going to be able to pull this off. Why had he gone along with it, again? Why had he asked Victor to do it?

At least it was a distraction from Lyuba. That thought was the first time she'd come into his mind all day. Georgi looked out the window, where the scenery was now slowly rolling by, and tried to distract himself again.

"Um, can you try to talk more...?"

"Oh." Victor sat up and coughed, before leaning back in. "Like this?" He said it a little higher, somehow sweeter, but it still sounded off. "Hm, how does Lilia do it? Her voice is really low... uh, remember that you are born anew with each role you take on, beauty is a crushing force of righteousness, the only way to become stronger is practice and will, strength is the necessary foundation for beauty and grace...."

Georgi winced. "If you're going to talk like her all weekend, we should get off at the first stop and go home." He respected (and feared) Lilia Baranovskaya, but he didn't want to be thinking of her every time Victor opened his mouth.

"It's working, though," Victor said. "Right?"

"I... yeah." As Victor worked through a few more of her sayings, the imitation grew better. Something about his intonation, or the shape of his consonants, or just his pitch – Georgi couldn't quite tell. "But can you keep it up all weekend?"

"Sure." Victor shrugged, his shoulder bumping against Georgi's. "Anyway, tell me more about your cousin so I don't show up and everybody thinks you haven't told Lyuba a thing about this party."

"You're not going as Lyuba. I told her – she's Yana – that I was bringing Vika." Victor's face scrunched in confusion. "She's really bad at names. Like, the way you forget about things you're supposed to do, but worse. If she asks your name a couple of times after we get there, don't be surprised. It's not like she wants to know that much about my love life, anyway. Let's see, what else should you know... she's a couple years younger than us. We used to play together all the time when we were kids, before my family moved to Piter."

"That must have been a long time ago," said Victor.

Georgi nodded; he'd been seven. His dad, in an attempt to help him make new friends in a new place, had signed him up for skating lessons. Not even six months later, he'd been put in the same advanced group as Victor. They'd skated under the same coach every day since then – both of them had gone to Yakov at the same time.

Yakov had seen talent in both of them. Still saw it in both of them now. Georgi had been reminding himself of that a lot recently.

The train sped up and started to make its way out of the city. After telling Victor a bit more about Yana, Georgi checked his phone and replied to her texts, while Victor dug around in his bag. Georgi looked over when Victor made a frustrated noise and saw him shove something lacy to the side, which made him wonder, briefly, what Victor had on _under_ that dress – no, he did not need to be thinking about that.

He put his phone away just as Victor finally found what he was looking for and held it up triumphantly – a book. Judging by the cover, it was something fancier than the romances he often took on planes and traded with Georgi sometimes. Victor settled into his seat, knees folding together again under the fabric of his skirt, lace brushing his legs.

It was like Georgi's brain didn't know how to processes what he was seeing properly, almost as though he was seeing double – because Victor did make a good approximation of an attractive girl, but Georgi _knew_ he was a guy, that he was the same Victor that Georgi had trained with for more than a decade. He shook his head to try and clear some of the confusion and settled back into his own seat. "Vit – Vika?"

"Hm?" Victor glanced over at him.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked again.

Victor's mouth slowly turned up into a smile. "I told you," he said, putting on that girlier voice again. "It sounded like fun." He shrugged. "You can owe me a favor or something afterward."

Georgi thought that not strangling Victor with his gold medal had been a huge favor already. But things still weren't at the point where they could joke about what had happened last season. So instead he told Victor, "You still owe me from Helsinki, remember? I never told Coach about it."

Victor whined and argued it some, but he soon conceded the point to Georgi and cracked open his book. Georgi gave him one last look, still unsure about how well this was going to work, then turned to the window to watch the scenery pass by.


	2. Chapter 2

Yana met them at the train station, as promised. She dashed over when she spotted him, her dark hair flying around her, and he scooped her up in a hug. "It's been too long," she said when she pulled away. "But you look well!" Her eyes slid to Victor. "And this must be – Gosha! You didn't tell me you were dating a _model_."

Victor smiled at her. "Hi," he said, his voice softer than it usually was. He introduced himself as Victoria Baranovskaya – Georgi was surprised to hear him say it, but it would help distract from his resemblance to the Olympic medalist. Yana hurried off ahead of them again as they started to leave, and Victor gave Georgi an amused look. "Gosha?"

"I decided I didn't like being called that when I was a kid," Georgi said. "I don't mind if it's her, though. If you call me that, I'm kicking you."

Victor huffed. "You'd hurt your beautiful girlfriend over something as trivial as that?"

"Maybe I wouldn't if you _were_. Now shush."

They caught up to Yana and caught a taxi with her. Georgi was stuck in the middle, with Yana talking a mile a minute with him on one side and Victor gazing out the window and making admiring noises on the other. He ignored Victor in favor of catching up with Yana.

"I saw the video you sent me," she was saying. "You always choose the most beautiful music! Do you know what you're skating to next yet?"

"For one of my programs, yeah. Still deciding on the other one. I have to let it come to me, you know? It can't be rushed."

She nodded. She wasn't the creative type herself, but she always took seriously when he talked about his process. "And summer's the time for you to relax and let your inspiration recharge, right? And do stuff like hang out with family and your girlfriend." She leaned forward, peering around him at Victor.

Victor took the cue. "Vika," he said again.

"Right. _Are_ you a model?"

Victor gave a modest laugh and touched a loose strand of his hair. "I've done a little bit – nothing fancy! Just for clothes. But I like sewing myself. Someday I want to be good enough to make costumes." He gave Georgi a smile at that, which made Yana go _awww_.

Georgi had to admire Victor's ability to come up with a story on the spot, although the modeling part at least was somewhat true. Had been before the Olympics, even. He put away that thought, returned the smile, and reached down to squeeze Victor's hand. Now that he was getting used to seeing Victor like this, after a million glances at him on the train, it wasn't as hard to pretend. And Yana, by all appearances, had completely bought it. (He felt a bit guilty for deceiving her, but at least it wasn't anything major – she'd likely never meet Victor again – and he knew that she would forgive him if she ever did find out.)

Maybe they really would make it through the party tonight without any trouble.

It wasn't too long before they arrived. Yana and her mother lived in a cute house, and at this time of year, it was bursting with color from the flowers his aunt tended. Right now, there was an abundance of purple and red and white on top of all the green, more kinds of flowers than Georgi could name. He and Victor stopped to enthuse over some of them on the way inside, which made Yana grin and try to explain what some of them were, before she gave up halfway through.

Inside, the house smelled sweet. His aunt was in the kitchen and washing her hands when they came in, with a whole heap of chopped strawberries sitting on the counter. After he'd greeted his aunt, Georgi swiped two of the few remaining whole ones while she was distracted with being introduced to Victor. "You two can go put your things away and get some rest if you want," his aunt said. "I know you must have had an early start to catch the train."

"It's an early start to catch the ice sessions, too," Georgi told her. Still, he lead Victor out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the spare room. It was a small room at the end of the hall, made up neatly in pale blues. Over the years and the visits, he'd spent a lot of nights sleeping in the little bed. Georgi wondered if two tall guys would fit in it, but they could worry about that later. "Here," he said, handing one of the strawberries to Victor after they'd dropped their bags next to the bed.

Victor's eyes lit up. "Thanks!" Georgi knew that Victor adored strawberries, and even with everything else going on with them, it was hard not to feel a bit of Victor's joy when he popped it into his mouth and closed his eyes. Georgi's was sweet, too, flavorful enough to take a few moments to savor.

Once his strawberry was finished, Victor took a moment to comb his fingers through his hair and re-arrange it over his shoulders, then press an invisible wrinkle from the dress. If there had been a mirror, he would have been primping in front of it; Georgi had seen him spend enough hours in front of one. "You look fine," he said. "We were on a train, not a motorbike. You heard her ask if you're a model, right?"

"I like looking nice," Victor huffed. "And it's important to keep your appearance in order." He was back to using his normal voice, at least while it was just the two of them, which Georgi kind of preferred. It made him seem more like Victor, only dressed weird (and they were figure skaters, they dressed weird all the time, he told himself), and less like a strange girl who was very nearly Victor.

"You look fine," Georgi repeated. "Really, Vitya. Come on, let's go see if we can steal more strawberries before lunch."

They did not have an opportunity to sneak more strawberries – his aunt had already finished chopping them up by the time they made their way back downstairs – but lunch was good, at least. Busy with chatting with his aunt and cousin, it took a while for Georgi to notice that Victor was unusually quiet. He wasn't acting shy, or anything like that; it was more that he wasn't jumping in at every possible point like Georgi was used to him doing.

Then again, these people were only strangers to one of them, and they sure weren't Victor's family. Georgi tried to remember the last time Victor hadn't been the center of attention between the two of them, outside of working with Yakov and Yakov's assistants. It took long enough to think about that his aunt interrupted him by asking if he wanted more to eat. (He did. His diet plan could go on hold for one weekend.)

Even a quieter Victor managed to charm his aunt by the end of lunch – it was the compliments to her cooking and her pretty plates that probably did it – and when Georgi helped carry the dirty dishes into the kitchen, she gave him an approving look. "She seems like a nice girl," she said. "I'm glad all that skating and schoolwork leaves you time for dating. I remember you two as children, playing all those games meant to tell you about your future spouse."

"I remember I kept getting different results, so I was afraid it meant I'd never marry." And here he was, with his rival pretending to be his girlfriend because he didn't have one. Determined to make this a happy weekend, Georgi forced the thought from my head in favor of the memories. "And then I thought it meant I'd have, like, five wives and that I'd need to be really good at loving them all equally."

She laughed, and as he put the dishes down on the counter, she told him, "I'll take care of these. See if you can get my daughter to finish getting the house ready – she was supposed to have everything cleaned up yesterday, but she kept putting it off. Maybe I should start using you as an example, since you're so organized!"

Georgi elected not to tell her about the times he'd shoved things into his suitcase at the last minute before a flight – anyway, he was getting better about it now that he was older and more responsible. (And after a few mishaps where he'd almost forgotten some important thing. When Yakov had told him to start making packing lists the time he'd nearly shown up at the airport with no passport, Georgi had listened.)

Yana made a face when he relayed the message. "Well, we also need to buy a few things before the party. Let's do that first, it's more fun and we can go together."

The weather outside was pleasant, sunny and warm and not so hot that Georgi wished he was back in the rink, with high, white clouds rolling slowly through the sky like wisps of cotton. Georgi didn't spend enough time in this kind of weather – even summer was busy with work for them. New choreography, training camps, dance classes, and for Georgi, trying to figure out the timing needed for his quad toe.

But he couldn't work on it now, not while out in such lovely weather and not with Yana's bright voice filling his ears. Maybe the break would help. Coach approved of them, in limited quantities.

"Gosha," Yana said when they had walked to the shops, "you can get the groceries, right? And the two of us can buy the rest."

"You mean you want me to pick up all the heavy things," he translated.

She grinned and pulled some money and a shopping list from the pocket of her shorts. "You're the strong athlete between the three of us! That means it's best if you handle it."

If only she knew; Victor stifled a laugh into his hand before Yana started pulling him down the street.

There wasn't that much to buy – mostly, it looked like, topping off the baking supplies his aunt was using up. The heaviest thing was a watermelon he hoped that they would eat later. It dug the handles of the bag into his arm as left the store and went to find Yana and Victor.

He heard them before he saw them, with Yana's voice floating up from behind a display of flowers. "I know it's trendy right now, but I think it looks better on you than on anyone I've seen try it."

Victor laughed. "Thanks! I have light hair naturally, so it helps."

"And he didn't mind? I'd be worried about it remind him too much of that team mate of his, what's his name, the one who went to the Olympics."

"Zhora? Well... I did ask him beforehand, since I was worried about it. But he said it was okay and that maybe it would make me look like a pretty witch or something." Victor's laughter was more strained this time. Georgi, who had been about to round the flower display, paused on the other side of it instead, staring at a yellow blossom and trying to undo the sudden knot in his throat. "He's actually been – I know it must be hard for him, but he doesn't blame anyone for it or act jealous. He's generous like that."

"I don't know anything about skating, but I still think they should've sent him!"

"Definitely would've been better to for him to go than that jerk from Moscow. At least Zhora can dance well. And he skates so closely to the music – you can tell he feels it every time he performs."

Why was Victor doing this? To make himself feel better – or feel more gracious, rather – when he thought Georgi wasn't listening? Georgi found that his hands had become fists around the thin plastic handles of the shopping bags, and it was hard to make them relax again.

The thing was – Victor wasn't that stupid about people. He'd brought his gold medal to the rink to show it off; Georgi was the one who had come over to see it along with everyone else, because it _was_ cool, that Victor had gone in the young underdog and come out the winner. Victor had deserved it. It _was_ cool to hold the medal in his hands, even if a few moments later the jealousy had risen in him, burning and broiling, and Victor had silently taken the medal from him and avoided the topic between them ever since.

When they even talked. It was easier for Georgi to keep his focus if they didn't. If he only watched Victor's quads two or three times in a jumping session, to try to understand how he did them. If he didn't look too closely at his medal rack in his bedroom, because he did have golds, but many of the silvers and bronzes had been won in the shadow of Victor for years now. If he thought all the time about how far ahead of him Victor was, he would lose his own motivation and forget his own strengths. So he tried his best not to.

Georgi closed his eyes and swallowed, then swallowed again. That was better. He could step out from behind the flowers and not want to shove Victor into the street. Coach said jealousy had to be used productively, and hurting him wouldn't be productive. Or kind.

He took one more deep breath, quiet, and then walked around the flowers. "There the two of you are," he sighed. Victor gave him a forced smile; Georgi thought there was a guilty look in his eyes, which he hid by ducking around Yana and pressing himself into Georgi's side.

"Sorry," said Yana, not apologetic at all. "See, I knew you could carry it all with no problem."

She didn't have any bags; Victor had one. Georgi separated out the watermelon and dumped it on her, and she complained and called him mean, but carried it the whole way back all the same.

At home, there was no more putting off the tidying, and though neither Yana nor her mother would really allow them to help with that part, she did give in to letting them help re-arrange the furniture to make it possible to fit all her friends in around the dining table.

"Thanks," said Yana when they were finished with that, juggling several books in her arms that threatened to spill onto the floor. "I can do the rest – do you two want to go upstairs and take a nap or something before the party? You look tired."

Georgi _felt_ tired, though he wasn't so sure it had to do much with the early start or the carrying of chairs. When Victor nodded and left to start up the stairs, Georgi wouldn't have minded letting him do so alone. But Yana gave him an encouraging smile and a nudge and right, if he had brought an actual girlfriend, there was no way he wouldn't have jumped at the chance to have a little time with her alone. In a bed. If only.

"Have a good time," she whispered with an exaggerated wink.

"Shut up, you," Georgi said, playfully shoving her, which almost caused her to drop the books. She cursed at him; he laughed and retreated out of the living room and up the stairs.

He hesitated at the top. A nap didn't sound like a bad idea now that he was thinking about it, but in the same bed as Victor?

It was just a bed, he told himself. He'd shared one with Victor before in hotel rooms, though not one so small. Coach probably would've scoffed at the Georgi's reluctance and told him that in _his_ day, he would have had to share the bed with three others and never mind if he was a bit upset with one of them. Well, probably not, but the mental image of Yakov lecturing him over something so small was funny, and it cheered Georgi up enough that he went down the hall and slipped into the room.

Victor was already under the covers, though he was playing with his phone. He snapped it closed when Georgi came in and dropped it on the small bedside table, then watched Georgi as he stripped the things from his pockets and put them there as well. When Georgi hesitated by the side of the bed, Victor said, "I can squish," and shimmied all the way over toward the wall.

There was room, though not a lot. Georgi climbed in and turned over so he was facing away from the window, and away from Victor. He could almost hear Victor hesitating on some words, maybe something that would try to diffuse the tension that hung heavy in the air above them. Georgi waited, reminding his shoulders to relax every few breaths so they didn't tense up, wondering if there was anything Victor could say that wouldn't make things worse or tick him off further. The minutes ticked by in silence thick enough to swallow.

But Victor never said anything, and eventually Georgi slipped off to sleep despite the discomfort between them.


	3. Chapter 3

He awoke suddenly to the sound of Victor's phone alarm. Victor, groggy and grumbling, climbed over him to reach it, his hand slipping on Georgi's shoulder and his sharp knee poking him in the back. As soon as the alarm was silenced, Georgi shoved him the rest of the way off. He didn't feel incredibly refreshed, but he did feel more awake; maybe he had needed some sleep, after all.

They both crowded into the bathroom to use the mirror, Georgi fixing his mussed hair and Victor fussing with his own appearance. Georgi's eyes were drawn from his own reflection when Victor leaned in, apparently inspecting his eyes; he'd darkened his eyelashes, but he did that on a lot of normal days. Left alone without being either darkened or brightened, they were practically transparent.

Other than that and the lip gloss he re-applied a minute later, if he was wearing any make-up, it was so subtle that even Georgi couldn't see it. Georgi had an appreciation for both natural beauties and the power of a bold face of make-up – more appreciation for the latter now that he'd started experimenting with it for skating – but it was strange to think that Victor could look so different just by putting on a dress. He didn't look anything like a girl when he was skating in a t-shirt and pants, even with his hair down, Georgi thought.

"How do I look?" Victor asked, smoothing down the top of his dress even though it didn't need it.

"You look fine." Victor, now running his fingers through the top layer of his hair, peered at him. "More than fine. You look pretty."

That got him a smile. "I told you I could pull it off," Victor said, letting his hand drop from his hair and giving his skirt one last shake.

"Just as long as you talk like—" Georgi gestured vaguely at his throat.

Victor grimaced and said, "Right – I mean, _right_ – how does this sound?"

"Okay. Does it hurt?"

"A little," Victor admitted, his voice going sweeter again. It would do. "Okay, and you can stop poking at your hair. It looks fine. You look nice!"

Georgi gave him a look, though he leaned back from the mirror. "You don't need to flatter me."

"It's not flattery." Victor grabbed his arm and tucked himself against Georgi. In the mirror, they made a nice couple, if not the most usual one. "See, you're handsome! No wonder you're good with girls. _I_ might've asked you out at some point if you were more my type."

Georgi wasn't entirely sure what Victor's type was, but he supposed there was something pleasing about how their heights almost matched, about the contrast of their hair. "Come on," he said after another moment of looking, and they went down the stairs holding hands like a real couple. On the way, Yana dashed up past them, saying something breathless about a shower and changing.

Downstairs, Georgi's aunt was wandering about the living room, neatening the curtains there and brushing off some dust there. The air smelled like sugar; the cake had to be in the oven, or maybe it had just been taken out. "I can't wait to eat that," Victor whispered.

"It'll be worth it," Georgi whispered back. Memories of past birthdays floated up and set his mouth watering from the imagined sensations of rich, dark chocolate, or soft cream and ripe oranges, or the sharp, bright taste of lemons. He was definitely eating his fill tonight, and he didn't doubt Victor would, too – they could work it off when they got back.

"I told her to put these away," his aunt sighed, picking up a stack of board games that didn't look like they'd been touched recently. Georgi hadn't even noticed that they were there.

Victor dropped Georgi's hand and stepped forward. "We can do it," he offered, and when she started to object, said, "We don't mind! It's not like we have much else to do right now, and I'm sure you could use a break after baking that cake. Actually, it smells _so_ good, it's kind of torturous to stand here not being able to eat it...."

Her lips pulled up into a small smile. "If you really don't mind – Gosha, you know where these go?" He nodded; she settled the stack into Victor's waiting arms. "The light in there stopped working recently – really need to get it fixed one of these days – let me get out a flashlight. Then if you really can't bear to wait in here for the party, you can take some drinks and go sit out in the garden. It's too beautiful of a day for anyone to sit around inside."

"Thanks," Georgi said. After she got him the flashlight out of a drawer in the kitchen, the two of them went right back up the stairs. The storage room was across from the bedroom they were staying in, the opposite way from the high pitch of the running shower, and it took Georgi a moment to work the sticky doorknob to open it. "I think games probably go near the back," he said, thinking back to when he and Yana had spent summer evenings looking for entertainment in its depths.

"The back?" Victor's voice came skeptical, and boyish again, though too quiet for anyone but Georgi to hear. "It looks kind of, uh."

"It's not that bad with the light on...." Georgi had already clicked the flashlight a good half-dozen times, and it didn't seem to be doing anything. He tried shaking it, and that helped. The light flickered on; it was weak, but enough to see by when he pointed it. "Here, I'll show you."

"Right," Victor said, taking a slow step in after Georgi.

The room was cramped and windowless; Georgi stepped carefully around a box of clothes that he was pretty sure actually belonged to his parents and had been left here when they moved. Maybe it could use some clearing out, but the air wasn't dusty. He took another couple of steps and nudged an old chair out of Victor's way. It should have only taken a minute to go put the boxes where they belonged, but at the pace Victor was picking his way through, it was going to take forever. It would be faster if he carried them, Georgi thought, and he had just turned to make the suggestion when Victor started to say something.

What he meant to say Georgi didn't find out, because he only got as far as "Zhora—" before he tripped over something and slammed, boxes and all, into Georgi.

Reflexes honed from thousands of failed jumps over the past decade meant that it didn't hurt, though the thin carpet didn't offer much padding. The flashlight spilled to the side, the boxes caught on Georgi's chest and shoulders – one poked hard at his cheek before gravity pulled it away – and Victor fell half over them and half over Georgi's lap. Victor swore; Georgi let his head gently thunk against the ground in disbelief.

"Sorry, sorry," Victor said. He sounded flustered enough from their clumsy spill that out of pity, Georgi pushed his hair out of his face for him. "Thanks. Ugh, how do I—" Georgi took the boxes and pulled himself out from under Victor, allowing them both to stand up, Victor with the flashlight in hand. "Sorry," he said again, laughing.

"Geez," Georgi sighed. "Top figure skater falls on flat ground, almost takes out rinkmate."

"Hey, it was that box that tripped me up." He shook the flashlight again to make the light brighten. "If it weren't for those games, it would've been like one of those stupid falls in anime, you know, where they end up accidentally kissing or in an embarrassing position or something."

"You watch anime? Like, _Marine Sun_?"

"Yep. I like _Marine Sun_ a lot, but recently I watched this one with dead gay guys solving supernatural mysteries and it was really good, so that one's my favorite right now."

"I didn't know you watched that kind of stuff." Come to think of it, aside from the novels they swapped when traveling together and Victor's endless stories about his dog, he didn't know much about what Victor did outside of the rink nowadays.

"I got into it a couple of years ago," Victor said, edging to Georgi's side so he could point the flashlight to light his path. They were almost to the back of the room now; as Georgi had thought, this was working better, his familiarity with the layout of the boxes and furniture giving him more confidence than Victor. "A lot of them are cool. And it's convenient since it doesn't take long to watch an episode, and I can download them onto my laptop to take to competitions, or stretch or eat while I'm watching. Sometimes I watch them in French or English to practice, too. Do you like any?"

Georgi had watched a few of the kind that he didn't want to discuss with Victor. "Lyuba was—" He faltered; not thinking about Lyuba was the whole reason they were doing this silly thing. He pushed through. "She was into this long series about a girl's gymnastics team. I watched a few episodes with her."

"Well," Victor said brightly, "there's lots of series about sports! I wonder if there's one about skating, I never checked. The movies about it are always so bad, but maybe—"

And then Victor tripped _again_. This time he missed Georgi as he crashed to the ground, at least, and it was only the flashlight that went flying.

His skirt went flying, too, and when Georgi leaned over to peer down at him and make sure he was okay, his eyes were involuntarily drawn to the revealed skin of Victor's upper thighs. The skirt hadn't fallen up so far as to be indecent, but the hem was at just the right height and angle to frame his thighs, and Victor had well-muscled legs, and it was—

—it would have looked very attractive on any girlfriend of his. Uncomfortable and feeling too much like a creep, Georgi looked away and took a few small steps so he could roll the flashlight back towards Victor with his foot. "Maybe you need a break from skating if you've forgotten how to walk."

"Shut up," Victor said, taking the flashlight and pulling his dress back down before he stood up. "I didn't flash you, did I?"

"Is that the next step in your anime romance fall series?"

Victor laughed. Georgi thought he was flushed with embarrassment, but in the dim light of the flashlight bouncing along the walls, it was hard to tell for sure. "Is this the shelf?" he asked.

It was. The games wouldn't all fit on one shelf, so Victor put the flashlight down. He took the top couple to help him, and their arms and shoulders brushed as they put the boxes away. When everything was neatly slid into place, they turned and regarded the rest of the room for a moment. "At this rate, you're not going to have any shins left by the time you get back through it," said Georgi.

"When Yakov sees the bruises, I'm going to have to tell him the story of the storage room attacking us."

"All the sharp cardboard edges and chair legs leaping out in front of you."

"And my companion who was supposed to help me only made fun of me, revealing his inner cruelty," Victor said mournfully.

"What, did you want me to carry you back through?" Georgi asked. When Victor broke into a smile, he continued the joke by putting his arm around Victor's shoulders and bending down. Victor sputtered at him, but by the time Georgi had hooked his arm under Victor's knees and cautiously straightened, Victor had not only let him pick him up but was grinning as well. He must have been delighted by the surprise.

Georgi only held him for a few moments – the route to the door was too narrow to risk actually carrying him there. Besides, no matter how tightly Victor clung to his neck (both of them might have bruises tomorrow), he was _heavy_. He may have been lithe, but all that muscle still weighed something.

"Wow," Victor said when Georgi set him down, still laughing a bit. He didn't let go of Georgi right away. "You're really strong! Have you been taking tips from the pair guys?"

"Thanks." It wasn't that often that Victor gave him compliments – especially ones that sounded completely sincere and not meant to try and soothe hurt feelings, or made because Yakov was in earshot.

Georgi's hands didn't seem to want to leave Victor right away, either, though they slipped down to Victor's waist. He was warm even through the fabric, and Georgi could feel him shaking as they shared another laugh.

This was fun. When was the last time he'd had real fun with Victor?

Maybe getting away from the rink helped, or maybe it did help that Victor looked so different like this, feminine and real in the soft, yellow light of the flashlight reflecting off the white paint. Victor smiled at him and touched a messy lock of his long hair, smoothing it down with curled fingers.

"I must be doing something right if you're looking at me like that," he said with another laugh. He looked very pleased with himself, and with those words, something hot flared up in Georgi.

Of course he was pleased with himself; Victor was always pleased with himself, because he was _always_ doing something right, wasn't he? A few failed jumps at practice turned into consistent performances turned into medals turned into media and sponsorships.

And Victor could be anything he wanted to be, it seemed, with no limits to it. A winner, a medalist, an Olympic champion, even, apparently, a girl who could be mistaken for a model. All he had to do was put in the effort and he always got the results, the attention, the praise.

Georgi wanted to throttle him. Georgi ached to, for once, wipe that self-satisfied look off his face. Maybe he would. Sure, he'd show Victor, he'd give him another one of those fucking surprises that he adored so much. Something unexpected, something that showed him the storm of feelings in Georgi's heart as he watched him laughing to himself about his own cleverness.

He did the first thing that came to mind – he shoved Victor into the shelving and kissed him.

Victor made an odd noise when Georgi pushed him; he made a more familiar one when Georgi kissed him, a muffled _mmph_. His hands went to Georgi's collar, though oddly, he didn't force him off. He didn't do much of anything as Georgi pressed him into the shelf.

Georgi's mind caught up to him, and he pulled away abruptly, feeling as shocked as Victor looked. He'd just surprised himself, too. He'd never kissed someone out of anger before; out of love, to placate, once even out of pity – but not anger.

He hadn't just fucked up everything between them permanently, had he? They had to go back to the same rink at the end of this weekend, and he couldn't leave Yakov, he was a great coach and he believed in Georgi and he didn't blink when he wanted to paint his face like a butterfly—

"Oh," said Victor, quiet – he was breathing hard – and he reeled Georgi back in for another kiss.

Georgi didn't know _why_. This was out of the blue, and hadn't Victor said that Georgi wasn't his type? But the kiss felt good, and so did the way Victor wrapped an arm around him and put a hand in the small of his back. It felt different from what he was used to in that he didn't have to bend his head down, but otherwise it wasn't such a change from kissing a girl. The pressure on his lips felt nice. Victor's heat felt nice. Putting his hands back on Victor's waist felt nice. Whatever anger was left in him evaporated when Victor's fingers twisted in his shirt.

They kissed again, and then Victor's tongue was against his lips. Georgi opened them, letting Victor explore his mouth while he ran his hands up Victor's sides. He couldn't think properly, felt too hot, pressed against Victor almost head to toe. Victor was clutching at him now, a hand under his shirt and nails digging into his spine.

At some point he needed to breathe; he almost had to pry Victor off so they could pant against each other. Georgi knew they should probably stop, but it felt better to press his lips to Victor's cheek – smooth – then his jaw, his neck, feeling and hearing Victor take a breath at that, which was gratifying somehow. He touched his hand to Victor's neck, too, then his chest, even though he knew there were no breasts under the fabric (Victor shivered anyway), before sliding it back down to his waist.

He wanted to touch him more, now that he'd started, and Victor was touching, too. Georgi's shoulder, Georgi's face, and then his hand moved to his hair and pulled him into more kisses.

Georgi stroked his tongue along Victor's teeth, stroked a shaky hand along Victor's hair. It was so hot, knowing that Victor wanted him enough to grab at him. Shining Victor who Georgi had so much reason to be jealous of was melting against him, wordlessly begging for more. Georgi rubbed against him – couldn't help it, couldn't think with the heat Victor was driving in him – and Victor full-on shuddered.

"Zhora," Victor moaned when Georgi pulled away again, just a little, just to catch his breath. He moaned his name again as Georgi kissed along his cheekbone, and it was the most attractive sound he could imagine right now.

When he pulled back, Victor's eyes almost looked dazed. It was a look he'd never seen on him, a look that was the furthest thing possible from his concentration when he was at work during practice. And Georgi was the one who had put that expression there. If he couldn't win over Victor, not yet, to at least affect him like this made Georgi feel powerful.

He wanted to see Victor even more unfocused, wanted to show him that he could still best him at something, wanted to see him shivering under his touch. And Victor apparently wanted it too, or something like it, since he dropped one hand down to grasp his skirt and bit his lip.

The gesture raised the hem a little, enough to draw Georgi's eye, and Victor jerked it up further until Georgi took the invitation and slipped his hand under the last few centimeters. Victor closed his eyes, only for a moment, before he wrapped his arm around Georgi's neck to kiss him again.

Georgi slow worked up Victor's hem, worked his hand up Victor's thigh. The skin was softer than he'd expected, and when he wrapped his fingers over it he could feel how much muscle there was. He liked that, liked the image that flashed in his head of what Victor could do with all that strength if they were positioned the right way. Victor shifted his leg into the touch, gasped against Georgi's mouth when his hand brushed Victor's inner thigh, let Georgi keep moving up, up, up—

Down the hall, a door slammed. They jerked apart at the sudden noise. It was only Yana, done with her shower, Georgi realized after turning his head in the direction it had come from. He could hear her humming as she went to her room and closed the door, this time not so loudly.

He looked back at Victor, who was flushed and breathing as heavily as he was, and swallowed before taking a step back. That had been – he didn't know where that had come from, or how it had gotten so out of hand. The two of them weren't dating for real, and this wasn't some banquet hook-up. Why had they done that? Why had Victor gone along with that stupid kiss so enthusiastically?

Victor ducked his head and pushed his hair out of his face. Through the strands, Georgi could see him open his mouth, but for once in his life, Victor stayed silent and shut it without a word.

Georgi took the flashlight off the shelf. They navigated themselves back out of the room without tripping on anything or looking at each other. After blinking a few times in the brighter light of the hallway, Georgi stole a glance and saw Victor gingerly touching his mouth. His lip gloss was all messed up.

"Give me a moment," he said, taking a few steps towards the guest bedroom. Georgi nodded, relieved to have a minute to himself after what they had just done.

After Victor disappeared through the door, Georgi went downstairs. Neither the cheerful wallpaper or the bright flowers set on the dining table could settle the unease in his stomach or slow his thumping heart.

It wasn't only the question of why they'd both suddenly decided making out was a good idea that bothered him, but what it could mean. So, maybe, he was attracted to guys along with girls? Or maybe only guys who were dressed as girls. Or, at the least, Victor, when he was dressed like a girl. And wide-eyed and panting against Georgi's cheek and pulling him between his knees and—

Georgi thought that self-discovery was very important. He kept a journal and read books with titles like _The Sacred Art of Being Yourself_ and experimented with make-up for his programs in his free time. This particular self discovery wasn't one he really felt like having right now.

He touched his lips the way Victor had touched his own upstairs. They hurt, in the good post-kiss way, burning slightly. He didn't know how that made him feel. He dropped his hand and straightened his clothes, and looked up when he heard a creak.

Victor was at the top of the stairs, moving slowly and quietly until he noticed Georgi had seen him. He put on a smile that was rather more strained than usual.

Georgi didn't return it and went to go put away the flashlight in the kitchen instead.

"I heard some crashing up there," his aunt said with a laugh. "You didn't hurt yourselves? I swear I keep meaning to clear out all the junk in there."

"Vi – Vika tripped a few times," Georgi said, willing away the heat in his cheeks. "She's okay, though."

"I'm glad she's not hurt, then. Really need to fix that light.... Why don't the two of you take some drinks from the fridge and go wait in the garden? I'm sure you could use the fresh air and sunshine after getting coated in all that dust."

"Sure," he said, smiling weakly. She didn't seem to notice, though, busy frowning at her mixing bowl. He took some bottles of lemonade out and silently offered one to Victor, who was now hovering in the doorway, before leading him outside.

He took in a deep breath as they stepped out, feeling the heavy warmth of summer and smelling the sweet plants. It helped him feel better, though the weirdness of kissing Victor still bothered him. Did Victor actually like him? Did he actually like Victor? No, he couldn't. He wasn't that ignorant of his own heart. When Georgi fell in love, he knew it. And he knew that there was no chance that Victor was secretly pining after him.

They skirted the table and chair set in the backyard and found a grassy area under a tree that wasn't planted with flowers. Victor's head turned this way and that as they walked; Georgi couldn't blame him, with how many flowers there were. He was admiring them, too, though it helped that it was an excuse not to look at Victor.

After sitting in the shade and taking a few sips of his lemonade, Georgi propped his head on his knee, back to thinking about what they'd done in the storage room. It was bothering him too much to let go of right now, even if he would rather have turned it over in the safety and privacy of his room at home.

So. Victor was apparently pretty cute when dressed like this, cute enough to wake up the part of his brain that was normally attracted to lovely ladies. Whatever that meant, he could put it to the side for later. For now – Georgi liked kissing pretty girls, and he'd wanted to piss off Victor, and he'd been _feeling_ so much. Maybe all of that had mixed together, and then Victor had started to kiss him back for whatever reason....

Once he had, it was only natural to continue, wasn't it? Georgi rarely turned down a girl wanting to kiss him. Even the times he probably should have. He'd had angry make-outs before with people he was dating, though he didn't usually like to think of them too much since they only happened around break-ups or big relationship arguments.

Had Victor just liked how he kissed? Or maybe he was into guys pinning him down in dusty closets and kissing him with no warning. Victor was weird. Georgi wouldn't have been surprised.

He was startled by Victor clearing his throat loudly. "We should come up with a cover story," he said, his voice going oddly high. There was so much cheer forced into the words that Georgi cringed.

"Cover story?"

"Like how we met and stuff. In case anyone asks. Let's see, I already told Yana I like sewing, so maybe I'm studying fashion. And we first met, um...."

"A mutual friend invited you to an ice show I did last year and we had dinner together afterward."

"And we hit it off because I liked your program," Victor said, nodding along. "The one with the creepy sound effects and the cat yowling, right? I liked that one."

Georgi frowned at him. "That one? You did?" His parents had asked him multiple times why he'd chosen the weird music. Yakov had simply shaken his head the first time Georgi had done it in practice and left him to it. Some of the older skaters had mimed covering their ears whenever the music started.

"It was really unique, and you were _totally_ into it. You have to be to sell music like that! And there was that shimmy thing you did at the beginning." Victor tried to imitate it; it would have looked ridiculous on him in any case, but the dress didn't help.

Georgi looked away and took another sip of lemonade. He had no idea how truthful Victor was being, or if he was just trying to be nice and patch things up after what they'd just done. "Thanks," he said. "And, uh, for the cover story, we started dating a few months ago."

"It's very difficult with your schedule," Victor said, nodding seriously. "But love will overcome and all that, right?"

"Right." They fell back into an awkward silence, looking at the garden and fiddling with their lemonade, until Georgi said, "Come here."

"Huh?"

"It'll seem weird when Yana comes out if we're sitting here and not even looking at each other."

"Oh. Yeah." Victor scooted closer, then closer, until Georgi could wrap an arm over his shoulders. After a moment, Victor relaxed into it, smoothed down his skirt, and leaned into his shoulder.

It was nice, though it would've been far nicer with someone he actually liked. Eventually Yana came out and stumbled upon them. "Enjoying the flowers, you lovebirds?" she asked, sitting on Georgi's other side and bumping their shoulders together. She'd changed into a cute pair of shorts and a t-shirt with some kind of sci-fi space theme that Georgi didn't immediately recognize.

"They're really pretty," he answered.

"I'd appreciate them more if mom didn't make me help care for them," she said with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, well. The others should be getting here soon, so then we can eat dinner and I can _finally_ have that cake. I've been going crazy smelling it all day! I bet you're going even crazier, since athletes like you can't have cake all the time."

They chatted for a few more minutes, Georgi aware of Victor's warmth against his side, until her phone buzzed in her hand and she jumped up, excitement lighting up her eyes.

Right, this was her party. Georgi had come here to be happy with her and for her. That was the most important thing. He smiled at her and stood, bringing Victor with him, and told himself to simply enjoy the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (bonus points if you get what the second anime Victor mentions might be)
> 
> (side note, skating to creepy sound effects [can totally work](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9imgmNJB24); blooming artiste Georgi can follow his heart wherever it leads)


	4. Chapter 4

The cake was the most delicious thing Georgi had eaten all year.

To be fair, he hadn't let slip on his diet even after he hadn't made the Olympics, and he didn't care as much about food as Victor did, so there certainly hadn't been that much cake to compare this one with. But it was _so good_ , from the light fluffiness of the cake itself to the soft sweetness of the vanilla frosting to the sharper and sugary taste of the strawberries as they smooshed between his teeth. Georgi took care to savor every bite of it.

Victor looked like he kind of wanted to cry as he ate his slice.

Yana already looked over the moon about her cake, but she somehow found even more elation when it was time for presents. She opened the ones from her friends first, and then the one Georgi passed over from his parents – a box of quality chocolates – before she finally got to Georgi's gift.

The smile fell off her face in surprise when she was done tearing off the paper, only to come back in small increments as she took in her present and set it gently on the table. "Gosha! Did you make this? You did, didn't you! I love it, it's so beautiful!" she exclaimed. She sprung from her chair and came over to hug him. One of her friends curiously picked up the gift to pass it around to everyone while he patted her back and grinned at her.

When one of her friends pressed it into Victor's hands, he paused to look at it. It was a handmade picture frame that Georgi had spent a long time making. Yana wasn't a little girl who wanted to be a cosmonaut anymore, but she still loved space themes, so he'd painted the frame with colorful clouds on a dark background, like nebulas and galaxies, dotted with tiny stars here and there. The paint shimmered and glittered as Victor's tilted the frame, before he smiled and passed it to the next person by leaning in front of Georgi.

Her friends had chosen well, but Georgi was proud of his own gift, and he was delighted with the way Yana smiled at it again when it came back to her and put it to the side with more care than it needed.

The rest of the party went on. At some point, they spilled out into the garden, enjoying the long light of the white night and passing around snacks that didn't hold a candle to the cake but were still tasty. Georgi sat with Victor and tried to remember to do the occasional romantic gesture, the way that he would naturally have acted with a real girlfriend. Victor was good at pretending, smiling when Georgi fed him a strawberry or settling his head on Georgi's shoulder for some minutes.

Almost like they were actually dating. It was so weird to act like this after their – after earlier. Trying to be sweet with each other and not letting on that they didn't actually get along this well on any other day. He hoped that things would be normal between them once they were back at the rink, where they could sit at opposite ends of the locker room to do up their skates and didn't have any business chatting during practice. He didn't think he could take much more awkwardness piled on top of the strain between them lately.

One of Yana's friends sat next to them at one point and struck up a long conversation. It was nice to have someone else to focus on and look at, and they even had to bring out some of the backstory they'd made up.

The group might have stayed up most of the night in the curious light outside, but eventually Yana's mother came out to tell them that they should think about going home, and despite some whining, the party slowly disbanded.

Yana protested that she was still wide-awake as she waved away her last friend, and she drifted back over to her presents where they lay on the table. "I really do like this," she said, picking up the frame. "You always make something yourself! Hm, this is always going to remind me of my favorite cousin, so maybe I'll see if mom has a decent photo of us together."

They shared another grin (he was her only cousin, so of course he was her favorite, but it was always nice to hear he was someone's favorite in _something_ ), before she scooped up the rest of her gifts and skipped up the stairs. His aunt, it seemed, had already gone to bed. Georgi hoped they could have more of the cake tomorrow before they left on the evening train.

Yana's departure left the two of them alone in the half-lit living room. Georgi turned out the lamp, and then they could only see by the light that spilled down the staircase.

In the gloom, with nobody else around, Victor sighed and ran both of his hands through his hair a few times, untangling it and shoving it back over his slumping shoulders. Georgi didn't really want to look at him, and it was a relief to not need to hold his hand or cling to his side as they went upstairs and brushed their teeth.

Georgi returned to their room ahead of Victor and immediately sat down so he could flop back on the bed. He felt drained, too tired to put on his pajamas and get under the light covers properly.

A few minutes later, he heard Victor come in. Georgi grudgingly dragged his feet up on the bed so Victor could lay down next to him, turning away from Victor as he did so. He expected to hear the sound of rustling cloth, but instead Victor simply sat down on the bed next to him.

The room was very quiet. Georgi could hear the covers shifting as Victor did, and the sound was so loud in the silence that he started when Victor's hand touched his shoulder.

"I'm trying to sleep, Vitya," he said.

"You're not dressed for it," Victor pointed out.

"I'm tired."

"You never sleep in your clothes. Not even when you're drunk and exhausted from an after-party," Victor said. They'd shared enough hotel rooms after them that he would know.

"What is it really?" Georgi asked as he sat up. He didn't mean for the question to come out as waspish as it did, but he didn't really care how it sounded. In the moonlight coming in through the window behind him, he could see Victor frowning. He was still in the dress.

"You're mad at me and I don't know exactly why."

"I'm not mad at you," Georgi sighed. Well, he was, but not much more than usual, and Victor had been happy enough to ignore that and sleep next to him earlier.

Victor's frown deepened. "Then...." He picked up a stray lock of his hair, twisting it between his fingers, before looking back up at Georgi. "Am I that bad at kissing?"

"What?" No. He wasn't doing this. "I don't want to talk about that," he said, and he lay down again.

Victor didn't give up – of course he didn't. He leaned over Georgi and asked, "Are you freaking out because it's the first time you kissed a guy and it's that weird?"

"Go away, Vitya."

"Or because I look that much like a girl and _that's_ what's freaking you out?"

Georgi shoved himself up and glared. "What part of _I don't want to talk about it_ do you not understand?" Nasty remarks floated to the surface of his thoughts, but he managed to restrain himself to only biting out, "Why do you even care so much?"

"Well." Victor ducked his head, and it was a moment before Georgi figured out what the awkward expression meant, since he couldn't exactly see Victor blushing in the moonlight. "It was really hot when you kissed me like that? I don't see why we can't do it again, since you were obviously into it. Is it because we didn't go on a date first? I know you prefer doing things that way – although, didn't you make out with that girl you'd just met at Nationals a couple years ago?"

He had, but she'd been an exception; Victor had accidentally stumbled on their hidden corner and grinned as Georgi chased him off, promising not to tell anyone. (As far as Georgi knew, he hadn't, despite Victor's terrible record with promises. Maybe it was because it wasn't the most exciting gossip.)

Georgi didn't know what to respond to first. "How do you know I prefer dating someone for a while first?"

Victor's brows furrowed. "Because of the way you talk about your girlfriends...? It's not hard to figure out."

He frowned at Victor. He wanted to be angry at Victor; he wanted an excuse to yell at him or say something mean to him again or make him feel bad by storming off to go find somewhere else in the house to sleep. Instead, to his own unhappiness, it was kind of nice to know that Victor did pay attention to what he said about the girls he fell for. Victor was always forgetting things. Why did he remember something like that?

"I've never kissed a guy before," he said, his irritation ebbing. Might as well smooth this over so they could go to sleep in peace. "So that was strange, but I'm not freaking out about it." He shrugged. "You do look pretty girlish in that get-up. Maybe that's it? Or maybe I could like guys once in a while and it's just never happened? I don't know." He shrugged again. "I'll figure it out later."

When Victor, instead of shrugging back at him or letting the matter drop, put a finger to his lips, Georgi expected him to crow about his disguise or preen over how Georgi hadn't been able to resist him; he was already prepared to shove him off the bed for it. But Victor pulled off another one of his damned surprises.

"So that's how you kiss girls?" he asked, looking away and playing with his strand of hair again. "Or is it different when you know they're a guy?"

"I don't know why it'd be different," Georgi said, confused with where this was going until Victor glanced back at him, eyelashes lowered over his eyes, and he understood where Victor was trying to lead them. Did he really want to do that again? Make out with Georgi? That kiss in the closet couldn't have been better than any of the hook-ups he must have had at the Olympics. (At least, Georgi was always reading and hearing about what went on in the Village.)

"Well, since men and women are different in some ways...? I dunno, I've never kissed a girl."

"I don't think it makes much difference when it comes to _kissing_ ," Georgi said dubiously. "I mean, probably when you start, um...." His eyes drifted down to Victor's flat chest before he pulled his gaze away. (Sure, it wouldn't be as fun as making someone lovely squirm as he mouthed at the soft skin of her breast, but he'd shuddered so when Georgi had touched him, there had been that.)

"Do you want to find out?" Victor grinned at him, dropping his hair to shift closer on the bed.

Georgi gave him a long look – Victor had dropped the fake voice again, too, now that they were alone, but he could grudgingly admit that the long hair everyone fussed so much about was a beautiful silvery color in the moonlight, and it looked soft. Victor looked pretty. Kissing him had turned him on, earlier.

He swallowed, conflicted. "I thought you said I wasn't your type."

"Nope," Victor cheerfully admitted. "But great kissers are _always_ my type. And you know," he said, his voice going breathy, "it was really hot when you suddenly pushed me into the shelf like that. And when you," and he reached out and touched Georgi's hand. When Georgi didn't stop him, he wrapped his fingers around it and pulled it up onto his leg, to the hem of his dress where the skirt had been worked up by his crawling on the bed. "When you touched me here," he said, putting Georgi's fingers just under the hem, right above his knee.

Part of Georgi wasn't sure he truly wanted to put his hand _all_ the way up Victor's skirt. Another part said he didn't have to do that to make out with him, that there were other things they could do if they – that part was getting ahead of himself.

He'd liked the kisses. _Really_ liked them.

Another part of Georgi said that maybe it wasn't the best idea to do this kind of thing with his rinkmate he didn't like that much. Georgi usually only ignored that part when love was on the line, but tonight he put it aside out of curiosity and the arousal sparking in his stomach, and he leaned over to kiss Victor.

It was a soft kiss, without any of their earlier desperation and heat. Victor sighed into it, and that was nice.

Victor had said he'd liked it when Georgi had pushed him into the shelf. So Georgi went with it pulled on Victor's knee, leaning harder, and then Victor was blinking up at him from the pillow and smiling. He put his arms around Georgi when he straddled him; he looked good like this, grinning up at Georgi. Victor pulled him down for another kiss, then another and another and another.

At first, Victor kept trying to push them harder right away, but it was fun to make him wait. Georgi liked chaste kisses and little kisses just as much as he liked having someone's tongue deep in his mouth. He didn't let Victor's tugging rush him along, and he found himself huffing with amusement when Victor made a frustrated noise.

It was worth it for the kisses, and it was worth it for the way Victor reacted when Georgi opened his mouth to him. Victor's hands had already wormed their way under his t-shirt, and his nails scraped against the skin of his back as Victor's tongue met his. Victor wasn't that bad at kissing, either, though he was sloppier about it than Georgi liked. He certainly made a lot of tiny noises that were very interesting. Georgi wanted to hear more of them.

Victor pulled away for a moment, which Georgi took to catch his breath, and he took one of Georgi's hands off of his neck and put it in his hair. "You can touch it if you want," he said. It was clear from his voice that he absolutely thought that Georgi did want to touch it. Georgi hadn't been especially longing for it, though he didn't mind; maybe Victor was just used to other people asking to play with his much-lauded hair.

It was almost as soft as it had looked in the light from the window, and Victor wriggled underneath him when Georgi stroked through it a few times, making sure not to tug and enjoying the feel of the strands running through his fingers. Then Georgi bent down to kiss him again, more interested in touching Victor's long neck. Victor arched into him, meeting Georgi's tongue eagerly. One of his legs was wrapped around Georgi's, and his fingers were hot on Georgi's side and back, Victor's touch changing every second as he melted under Georgi's mouth.

When they took another moment to breathe, Victor pushed Georgi up, but only long enough to pull his shirt off for him. It happened quickly enough that when Georgi tried to aid him, his arms got tangled up in the sleeves, and Victor's attempts to free him made it worse. "Stop helping," Georgi told him after a minute, and then he managed to get the rest of the fabric off of him.

That was better – it was too warm now with the heat they were generating. But Victor seemed to have no intention of letting them cool off, if the way he tugged Georgi back down was any indication. "Is it different?" he asked between more kisses, his hands sliding on Georgi's shoulders.

"What?"

"From a girl?"

"There's not one way that girls kiss," Georgi huffed at him. "You're not that different from any of them."

Victor kind of seemed put out by that. Maybe he was disappointed at not being special yet again, even in this small way. Georgi didn't know. He dealt with the spark of irritation by bending to put his lips to Victor's neck, and that turned out to be a great idea from the way Victor repressed a sound in his throat and tilted his head in a silent bid for more.

His hands pressed hard into Georgi's sides, running from his ribs to his waist and reaching around to his spine before sliding back down. It felt good, the touch and the fact that it was Victor who couldn't keep his hands off of him, who kept twitching as Georgi pressed a plethora of kisses to his soft throat. Georgi paused for a moment to suck on the skin, lightly – he wasn't going to leave a hickey, he wasn't going to get that carried away with _Victor_ – and it made Victor moan, the sound light and quiet and going straight to Georgi's cock.

Georgi pushed a hand into the hair at the back of Victor's head and pressed his mouth to the corner of Victor's neck and shoulder. He felt the gasp at that, how Victor's chest jumped on a sudden inhale, felt it again when he dropped to Victor's collarbone where it peeked out above his dress. The bone was sharp and lovely under his mouth; he ran his tongue along it down to the dip at the top of his chest.

"Oh my _god_ ," Victor muttered, and he was suddenly pulling Georgi up again for hot and impatient kisses. Georgi rocked his hips against Victor's thigh and Victor was panting in the small moments their mouths were apart from each other and he could have done this forever, it felt like. Made out with Victor and pulled back to look at how flushed and eager he was only to get reeled in by him again.

Eventually, though, even Victor wanted to break the kisses. He pushed Georgi off of him and ran a hand over the hairs stuck to his face, though he only got half of them. Georgi sat back when Victor sat up, and he let Victor put a hand on his chest to make a little more space. It was so warm he felt dizzy with it, and it didn't help how Victor looked like _that._ Hair falling across his face and lips digging into his teeth, no longer perfect PR-ready Victor, eyes only for Georgi.

"It's too hot," Victor laughed. It was, but that didn't stop him from shoving Georgi back some more and then climbing on him to drop into his lap, his skirt flaring out around them. He did have good ideas sometimes, Georgi could admit to that. They kissed a few more times before Georgi suddenly had one of his own.

As much as he liked having Victor in his lap and as much as he was into these kisses, his lips were starting to hurt. And he wanted to see more of Victor squirming in response to his touch. "Here," he said, pulling on Victor and repositioning them until he was leaning against the cool wall next to the window and Victor's back was to his front, between his legs.

Victor made an _mm_ sound and reached up and back to wrap his hands around the back of Georgi's neck. "Zhora," he whined when Georgi didn't finish shifting them fast enough. "This better make up for not being able to kiss you like this."

"If you could wait for _five seconds_...." Georgi dropped a kiss to the top of Victor's ear to make him settle down, then wrapped his arm around his waist to bring him in closer.

The other hand he let drift teasingly over Victor's stomach while Georgi bent his neck to kiss Victor's again. Victor sighed and seemed content with that for the moment. Then Georgi drew his free hand up to brush against Victor's jaw, his collar, the dip that his mouth had been against a minute ago – before he slid it under the top of Victor's dress.

Victor squeaked and, to Georgi's surprise, grabbed his hand when it was only halfway under the fabric. "I, um," and wow, it was satisfying to fluster Victor that much for a second, his cheek hot against Georgi's. "You know I don't—"

Georgi rolled his eyes before he thought better of what Victor might have meant. "Do you not like being touched there?"

"No, I like it," Victor said slowly, and when Georgi rubbed the tips of his trapped fingers against the skin that he could reach, he took a breath and let go. Instead, he grabbed Georgi's thigh, right where his shorts ended. His grip was tight, but it didn't hurt, so Georgi concentrated instead on how Victor's chest felt.

He slid his hand down slowly, conscious of every little jerk Victor made at the brushes of his fingers. Sure, it was different from what he was used to – even the flat, muscled girls he'd been with hadn't been _this_ flat – but Victor wriggled when Georgi circled around his nipple, so. Good enough?

Georgi didn't think he liked it as much as getting a chance to play with a cute pair of breasts, but even if it wasn't as fun to rub his hand along Victor's pectoral, it was still worth it for the way Victor arched his spine into his hand. He shied away into Georgi's chest when he rubbed the nipple itself – he liked feeling how it hardened as he touched it – then shifted right back against his hand when he lightened the pressure.

"You're cute like this," he couldn't help but say. It was charming and there was a part of him that felt so powerful seeing Victor reacting like this, and Georgi didn't know if that second one should have been such a turn-out, but it was. It was a new feeling, but he enjoyed it, enjoyed the sight of his hand going down Victor's dressed, enjoyed how Victor kept moving into his touch and trying to twist out of it when it was too much. The wriggling back and forth wasn't really enough pressure on his cock when Victor shifted against it, but he could wait.

"That feels amazing," Victor panted. His remaining hand slipped from Georgi's neck and didn't find purchase on its way down. He didn't seem to know where to put it, on top of Georgi's hand when it moved to the other side of his chest and made him whimper, or on his other thigh, or tangling somewhere in his skirt.

"Here," Georgi said, releasing Victor's waist to catch it and bring it back up to his neck. "Here, Vitya."

Victor hooked it around his neck again. " _Fuck_ ," he muttered, bucking against Georgi's hand where it was making soft circles around his other nipple.

When Georgi gave him harder pressure, Victor moaned. "Vitya," he whispered against his hair. It felt kind of weird calling him that like this, though Victor didn't object. Of course he didn't; putting on a dress didn't make him not Victor. Even if the reason he'd put it on was to pretend to be someone else....

Georgi wondered what Victor would do if Georgi did call him _Vika_ , if maybe they would pretend that Victor really was a girl and they really were dating and they really did like each other, but – not tonight, Georgi thought, wasn't sure if he could do it even if Victor did want that.

Maybe another time, if there was another time. If they didn't wake up tomorrow and wonder what the hell they'd done last night – well, if Georgi didn't. (Victor was too shameless to ever wonder such things, he was sure.) Victor's imagination wasn't as good as his, but he had a decent one.

This time when Victor wriggled, he wriggled free of Georgi's hold and turned around to put their mouths together again. It was a deep kiss, Victor's tongue on his teeth, soft noises in his throat, Victor's arms around him properly. Victor pulled them down to the bed, Georgi on top of him, and didn't let go; he ran his fingers through Georgi's hair, messing up his careful styling and sending shivers down his back.

Georgi sucked on his tongue and reveled in the noises Victor was making against his mouth, and at the same time he reached under Victor's full skirt. His thighs were already wrapped around Georgi's waist again. He touched one and appreciated for a moment how firm and strong it was – not a lot of soft fat over the muscles on any skater, and especially not Victor.

It made him think of Victor at practice in those leggings he'd taken to wearing lately, skating in front of the windows with every edge and curve lit up. Maybe turning to do one of those quads. Salchow, toe loop, and he'd started trying to wheedle Yakov into letting him work on the flip.

No. Not the time to think of training, to think of how far Victor was ahead of him on the ice. Here, he was shivering as Georgi's fingers wound in his hair, parting his legs further as Georgi's hand traveled up his thigh.

Suddenly there was more fabric under his hand instead of skin, stretched over Victor's sharp hipbone. Georgi hooked his fingers in the underwear and started to pull it down automatically, before his brain stuttered over the fact that Victor was a guy and he'd never done this with a guy before and he wasn't sure what to do about that.

Stupid. Just because he'd never touched another guy's dick before, or thought about it, didn't mean it was difficult. Georgi's hand hesitated anyway.

Victor sat up partway and caught his arm by the wrist, smiling. Georgi let him take his hand. "Zhora," he said, breathy, peering up at him, "do you want to fuck me?"

Georgi hadn't thought his face could get any warmer, but it felt like his cheeks heated even more. "I – do you want me to?"

His smile widened and he dropped back on one elbow, trying to bring him back down. "It'll feel good," he said.

Which wasn't really an answer. And it wasn't that Georgi _didn't_ want to, or at least do something to deal with his throbbing cock, only it felt so much, so fast. How long had they been making out for? They'd only kissed for the first time this afternoon. He hadn't even known that maybe he might consider doing it with a guy twelve hours ago.

He rubbed his eyes and took a moment to breathe. Victor pulled at his wrist, making impatient noises. "We don't have to," Georgi said.

Victor gave him a weird look. "I want to. And I can tell you want to, too, it's pretty obvious." He glanced down their bodies and then back at Georgi's face.

"I meant – like, we can do something else if we want, right?"

Victor's eyebrows pressed together before he perked up. "Do you want me to use my mouth on you? With me on my knees and everything? I didn't know if you were into that, but—"

Oh, god, there was an image: Victor looking up at him, dress pooled on the ground, how his mouth would feel, how it would feel to have him so entirely focused on Georgi's pleasure. It was a bit too tempting. He didn't know if he'd be able to control himself. (Another time. If they had another.)

"Or we could, um, touch ourselves while we keep making out, or...."

Victor's nose crinkled. "That sounds boring."

It was a strange reason to feel hurt, but it did hurt. Georgi gave him a sharp look. _He_ didn't think it was boring; he'd had some great make-out sessions where he'd been touching himself and she'd been touching herself and maybe they touched each other and maybe they didn't – it was still intimate and hot either way.

Victor's expression faltered under his glare, and then he just looked confused. He should have simply gone with Victor's flow and said yes, shouldn't he? He was making this weird. Georgi scrubbed his face with his palm and took another deep breath.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm not used to jumping right into sex with someone, so it's... a lot, I guess. It usually happens more slowly than this."

"Oh, right." Victor shifted around on the bed, and then he was leaning into Georgi's side. "Right, you're sweet like that. That's okay! We at least know each other, right?"

"Right," Georgi said weakly. Not like this, but. Yeah, he wouldn't have gotten this far with a complete stranger.

"I prefer knowing each other, too," Victor said, smiling again. He reached down into Georgi's lap and took his hands in his own. "So, do you still want to...?"

Georgi looked at their clasped hands, then looked at Victor. His hair was falling into his face; Georgi freed one of his hands to brush it out of his eyes for him, tucking it behind his ears. Something about Victor's smile shifted at that, in a good way.

He was still hard. Victor looked great like this. He hadn't mentioned Georgi's hesitation earlier. He hadn't answered his question, either. "What do you want to do?"

Victor's gaze slipped to the side for a moment, and when he met Georgi's gaze again, he could tell he was putting on the breathiness in his voice this time. "I think it would be really hot if you took off my underwear and turned me over and fucked me."

Georgi swallowed. "Yeah," he agreed. "It would be."

Which was why, when Victor grinned and fell back to the sheets, Georgi clambered over him and off the bed. "Where are you _going_?" Victor asked plaintively from behind him.

It only took a moment to get what he was looking for. Even after his break-up, he hadn't bothered emptying out the inner pocket in his bag where he kept supplies. Victor blinked when he straddled him again and set the lube and condom on the bedside table.

"Oh," he said. "Are you always prepared?"

"Vitya, is it me or is it you who always gets scolded for forgetting all their things at competitions?" Georgi didn't know how Yakov's coat held all those extra snacks, schedules, tissue packs, and the odd bottle of water, but at least _he_ didn't need them very often nowadays.

"Shut up," Victor groaned. He pouted, and Georgi kissed that expression off his face.

He reached back under Victor's skirt until he found his hipbone again. This time when he hooked his fingers under the fabric of his underwear, he pulled it down, slowly; Victor squirmed, which was fun, but he didn't demand Georgi hurry up.

When he slid them off Victor's legs, the moonlight revealed that they were dark, with tiny flowers or something printed on. Not as sexy as, say, lace, but it was cute, and he wasn't surprised that Victor, who was always so particular about the details of his costumes and programs, had worn something that wasn't plain. Georgi told him as much when he asked if Georgi liked them.

Victor pulled on his shoulder at the same time that he reached for the lube, and he begged for more kisses as his fingers disappeared up his skirt. Georgi listened to each little gasp between the kisses, watched Victor's eyes squeeze closed and blink open and close again when Georgi slid his tongue in his mouth. He kind of wanted to watch what Victor was doing to himself, but there was something about the way the fabric of the skirt hid it, too, so that he could only see Victor's arm moving and the reactions on his face.

When Victor's hand reappeared to grab at his waist, Georgi pushed it down so Victor could help him get the rest of his clothes off. With everything shoved off, this time with no problems, Victor paused for a moment to touch his cock, his fingers gentle as they stroked along the skin. Now it was Georgi's turn to shut his eyes, shuddering at the soft sparks of pleasure Victor's touch generated.

"Not bad," Victor teased. Georgi rolled his eyes at him.

He sat up again and had to reach over to pick up the condom. While he was fiddling with the wrapping, Victor turned himself over onto his hands and knees. The sight made Georgi work faster to get it on so he could lean over him. Victor was breathing so fast with excitement, and he breathed faster when Georgi shifted his skirt up and out of the way.

It made Georgi breathe faster, too, but he didn't rush when he pushed into him. It felt amazing, slick and tight around him, and he enjoyed Victor's responses, too, the way he said Georgi's name so breathlessly and the way his head dropped forward.

He paused for a moment when he was all the way in, but Victor didn't tell him to wait – in fact, he shifted back against him, a clear signal to keep going, so Georgi pulled out and thrust back in, letting out a quiet groan at how good it felt. They quickly found a rhythm, Victor rocking against him as he moved in and out of him.

Victor's hair had fallen almost completely over his shoulders. It left his nape and neck bare, and Georgi pressed his lips there, not really a kiss. Victor was trembling faintly, and that made Georgi smile against his skin as he pushed into him again.

"Can you," Victor started to say, panting, and then he just asked, "Harder?"

"Mm." Georgi liked this pace, but he teased, immediately slowing down, stifling a laugh at the way Victor huffed. He really did feel very good every time Georgi slid into him.

"Please?" Victor tried again, his voice pitched high and soft. The quiet, pleading request, coming from _Victor_ of all people, went straight to Georgi's cock.

"Okay," he said, and this time when he pulled out, he drove his hips forward, shaking them both. He put more effort into the next thrust, and the next was harder still. Victor bit off a moan, but it still came from his throat, and that added to the heady, prideful feeling growing in Georgi's head.

Pretty, handsome Victor who had never seemed to have an awkward phase that lasted more than a week. Victor, who only put in as much work as Georgi did and usually seemed to get twice as much out of it. He'd probably had anyone he wanted at the Olympic Village, had been invited to all the good parties with the people who mattered.

Or maybe he hadn't because he'd been so fucking _busy_. There'd been a TV crew at their rink after Nationals to record a special on their new charismatic young national champion. They'd asked Georgi questions about Victor and filmed Victor and it was like the rest of them didn't exists. There had been photoshoots with sponsors' products and magazines and talk shows and of course the ice show invitations. Even months afterward, Victor's time was so in-demand that he complained about having to fit it all around his training schedule.

Georgi would have done anything to have that complaint. He had ice show invites, sure, but not as many. He didn't have magazines and radio shows emailing him for interviews. He didn't have the fucking jumps and consistency that Victor had, no matter how long he went through his programs in his head at night and how many hours he put on the ice during the day.

How did he _do_ it? Why couldn't Georgi have some of his success? They'd been born on almost the same day! They'd started skating at the same time! Yakov worked so much with both of them! What was his goddamn secret?!

His hips snapped forward again, and he almost fell forward as Victor's elbows wobbled and then folded. Victor let out a squeak, and after adjusting his balance, Georgi started to build up his pace again. He'd wanted harder, after all, and Victor always seemed to get what he really wanted.

The welling anger and jealousy burned hot in him, and it felt good. It felt good to push so hard into Victor and it felt good to be on top of him like this and it felt good to hear those muffled noises Victor kept making.

At least until one of those noises suddenly sounded wrong, and Georgi, sunk all the way into Victor, paused. He hadn't been listening that closely, but that had sounded less _keep going_ and _harder_ and more pained.

Part of Georgi wanted not to care; it wanted to revel some more in the satisfying, righteous feeling he had. The other part of him actually enjoyed not being an asshole.

"You...." His throat was so dry. He coughed. "You okay?"

Victor laughed, a tiny, weak thing. "I, uh, maybe a little too hard?"

The hot, sweet anger evaporated. "Sorry," he said, heavy guilt taking up residence instead.

"No, no, I – it doesn't hurt, it's just – it got too much."

Georgi pulled out and eased himself over onto his side on the bed, turning Victor with him as he moved so that he was mostly behind Victor when he settled. Victor shifted his hips back, so Georgi slid into him again, this time more cautiously. "Sorry," he said again.

"It's fine. I asked for it!" Victor whispered the words brightly. Georgi strained to hear any thread of uncertainty in his voice, but Victor leaned back against him. "You can – oh, I like that angle better, that's good. Keep going, I'm fine."

They rocked together at a gentler pace now, Victor making softer noises. Georgi pressed his face into Victor's hair. The rush of anger a minute ago had been so gratifying, but now it made him feel bad. Just because he felt like that didn't mean he should take it out on anyone, even Victor, even if he'd sort of asked for it. At least Victor seemed happy now, shifting on the bed to press them closer and holding on to the arm Georgi wrapped around him.

The arm that wasn't holding on to his wouldn't stay still. Georgi didn't realize why at first until he leaned up because his hand started to go pins-and-needles. Victor's other hand was under his skirt, and it was moving in a very familiar pattern. Georgi stared for a few moments; there was something really hot about Victor jerking himself off in a skirt while Georgi was inside of him.

"Like it?" Victor asked. He was smiling again when Georgi looked at his face.

"Mm." Georgi lay back down and kissed his shoulder, right above the collar of his dress. Now that he was paying attention, there was the quiet sound of Victor touching himself, underneath the rustle of fabric and the tiny squeaks of the bed and the noises being made as they moved together.

When Victor came, the only warning Georgi got was him turning his head into the pillow and his hand speeding up. And then he was suddenly so much tighter around him, and he jerked and twitched against Georgi's arm. The hand that was wrapped around it tightened so much that Georgi winced at his nails digging into his forearm; for a moment he thought Victor might even break the skin, but then he abruptly relaxed and the pinpricks of pain disappeared.

Georgi paused, not sure if he should pull out or not, but Victor reached fumblingly over his shoulder, and he took it as silent permission to keep going. Victor didn't tell him to stop, only put his arm back over Georgi's and let him keep fucking him.

He did feel very good, and Georgi was already close himself. He set a steady pace, not too hard, not letting himself think about anything other than the pure physical sensations, how there was sweat on Victor's shoulder when he opened his mouth to it and how strongly Victor held his arm and how Victor felt around him.

It wasn't so long before he crashed over his own peak, the orgasm leaving him hot and shuddering and, eventually, when it wore off, blinking slowly against Victor's hair.

Georgi didn't really want to move; it was Victor who shoved him off, complaining of the heat. Reluctantly, he stretched out his legs and pulled out, and he didn't look at Victor as he cleaned up and then darted out of the room in his underwear to grab a washcloth from the bathroom.

When he came back, Victor, despite his grousing about the temperature, was half covered by the thin summer blanket. Georgi could see enough of him to see that he'd stripped off the dress. "Do you want...?" Georgi asked, holding out the washcloth as he sat next to him.

Victor blinked at him a few times and took it. "Thanks."

Georgi shrugged and climbed around him to claim his half of the bed. He didn't really know what to think about what they'd just done, so he tried not to ponder it as he arranged himself on his back. Thinking about it could be done later, after they'd slept.

He jumped when Victor's head settled on his shoulder. "That was great," Victor mumbled into his skin. "You're really good at it."

"Thanks?"

"No wonder you never have trouble finding a date."

"Go to sleep, Vitya."


	5. Chapter 5

Georgi was the first to arise in the morning. He spent a few minutes staring at the ceiling and replaying the last night, before he gently pushed Victor off of him and went to go take a shower.

He had no idea of how to feel about last night. Happy? It had felt good.... Confused? Weird?

This was definitely going in his journal to work out later. Maybe not all the details. Not that he could easily put Victor's expressions or the way his body had felt underneath the dress into words.

Georgi resigned himself to feeling odd about the experience and went to wake Victor up. He knew that Victor didn't wake easily, so when he tried to roll over after Georgi shook his shoulder, he unceremoniously whipped the cover off. "I can hear my aunt making breakfast. You better get up now or you'll miss out."

"Mmf," said Victor, now stubbornly burying his face in the pillow.

"If you don't, I'll drag you out. I'll do it, Vitya."

Victor rolled back over with a groan, rubbing at his eyes. "You're awful. You're the _worst_. You're a demon. Yakov doesn't make me get up early on Sundays. Mostly even Lilia doesn't."

"That's nice," Georgi said, rolling his eyes and turning away to find his phone. "She'll probably be done in, like, twenty minutes."

His parents had texted him last evening and he hadn't noticed. Asking about the party, reminding him to have a good time, and wishing Yana a happy birthday. Georgi replied to them and when he looked up, Victor had vanished. A few seconds later, he heard the high whirring sound of the shower turning on.

It didn't take long to neaten the room. Georgi opened the window to let in some fresh air and stuck his head out to stare down at the flowers below.

Folding his arms on the windowsill and setting his head on them, Georgi let out a long sigh. This wasn't what he'd expected from Victor's dumb suggestion. Not in the least. It had all happened at once, and now it was a confusing knot in his mind.

He wondered what last night had meant. Or maybe it didn't mean anything; maybe it was just an experiment, a one-time thing. The thought seemed kind of sad. He wondered what Victor thought about it, if he was also thinking about what it meant, or if he wasn't thinking about it at all. Or maybe jerking off to the memory in the shower or something. (Georgi was pretty sure he was going to replay the memory a few times in his own bedroom when he got home.)

His aunt started calling for them. Georgi pulled his head from the window and went to join her and Yana for breakfast. There was nothing complicated about eating breakfast, at least. There were pancakes and an array of toppings for them, with leftover watermelon from the party on the side. Georgi felt cheerier just sitting down and staring at it all, trying to figure out what to eat first.

Victor was only a couple of minutes late. He showed up in a lacy black dress, similar in cut to the one from yesterday but with a slightly shorter skirt. Victor didn't look as striking in black as Georgi knew he himself did, but it still looked good on him, and it was easy enough to muster a smile for him as he sat down. The lace was lined on the bodice and most of the skirt, of course, but that didn't stop Georgi's imagination from wondering what might match the dress that Victor could be wearing underneath... probably not, he told himself, willing his cheeks not to blush. And anyway, there was breakfast to be had.

He and Victor and Yana all stuffed themselves on the pancakes, to the delight of his aunt. After breakfast, Yana suggested they go out for a walk. It was another lovely day, the breeze blowing Victor's skirt as they strolled along, and Georgi found that the weather kept him from sinking too deeply into his own thoughts.

Victor liked to play the tourist, and when he asked to see some of the old things in town, Yana jumped at the chance to play guide and show off not just the old things, but all the places she liked. Georgi, having seen it all, let her do most of the talking except when he had a good story to interject, and otherwise kept his hand in a loose grip with Victor's. Victor took it all in with wide eyes and enthusiasm for Yana's favorites.

For lunch, they went to Georgi's favorite little restaurant - it wasn't a place Yana especially liked, but she said, "You hardly get to eat there anymore except when we visit, so we should go there."

"Thanks," he said, and led the way. Victor's thigh kept bumping his as they ate, bare skin to bare skin, and Georgi wanted so much to know if he was doing it on purpose or if he was just being clumsy about shifting his legs under the tiny table.

After their lunch, it was time for more old buildings and parks, until they were tired and went back home. "I didn't know you were from such a pretty place," Victor said on their walk back.

"It's on my ISU profile."

"Who looks at _those_?"

Yana had rushed ahead of them to admire some shirts in a shop window, so Georgi nudged Victor and said, "Your hobbies are dance, reading books, and playing with your dog."

"Is that what I put? I don't even remember."

"Yes, Vitya." They'd even read it aloud during the broadcast of the Olympics, as though it made Victor more relatable if people knew he liked novels and puppies.

Back at home, they played some games with Yana and entertained themselves till dinner, after which they did, in fact, get to eat more of the delicious cake. It wasn't quite as good on the second day, but Georgi still gave each forkful its due attention, taking in the sugar and the vanilla of every bite.

Then they had to dash upstairs to make sure they'd packed everything, because it was time to catch their train. His aunt gave him a hug and reminded him to call once in a while, and Yana came along to see them off.

"I'll miss you," she told Georgi, squeezing him so tightly that he could hardly breathe. He hugged her back just as tightly. "Good luck next season! I'll be rooting for you! And, um...." She stepped away from Georgi and peered at Victor.

"Vika?"

"Vika! Sorry. It was great meeting you. Thanks for coming! I had a good time with both of you today."

"I had a lot of fun, too! Thanks for showing us around."

Yana waved as they boarded their train, calling out a few last words of luck to Georgi, and he waved back at the last second he could still see her. The two of them took a pair of window seats again. Victor sank into his, sighing and tipping his head back. Georgi echoed the sentiment as he plopped down. It was nice to get off their feet after being on them most of the day, even if they didn't hurt the way they sometimes could after a full day of training.

They settled in for the ride, both of them pulling out a book. Georgi tried to concentrate on his, but his eyes kept sneaking off the page to glance at Victor, going from the lace splayed across his thighs to the collarbone he'd had his mouth on last night. He kind of wanted to do it again – Victor was as attractive in this dress as he had been in the other one, or maybe even a bit more, and Georgi's mind kept going to how he'd looked under Georgi last night. Hair thrown over the sheets, grinning at him. Making those soft and encouraging sounds. Or how he might look, as Victor had suggested, on his knees in all that black lace, maybe touching himself under the skirt as he touched Georgi....

He really hoped that he wasn't this distracted in practice tomorrow. He needed to focus more than ever.

Partway through the trip, he gave up on his book for the moment and closed it. "Vitya?" he whispered.

Victor looked up at him, brushing some of his hair behind his ear. "Yeah?"

Georgi didn't know how to start talking about all the things he wanted to talk about. Probably he shouldn't even be trying to do this on a train, but when they reached St. Petersburg, Victor would go home, and then they would only see each other at the rink again, and... that seemed awkward, too. "Last night," he said after a moment of dithering.

Victor blinked at him a few times, tilted his head, and whispered, "It was good, right?" When Georgi nodded, flushing – it had been more than good – Victor added, "Do you want to do it again sometime?"

Georgi bit his lip. He kind of did. He was kind of worried that it would make things between them at the rink even weirder, if it didn't work out so well another time. "I guess, but... we're not dating," he hedged, trying to make sense of the tangle in his heart.

They weren't dating, and they never were going to be even if Georgi decided that he did like guys like that. He wondered if they would have dated even if Victor had been born a girl. He didn't have to be doing everything better than Georgi to be annoying and frustrating. There was everything from his forgetfulness to the way he was always too much adventurousness and never enough critical thinking when they traveled for competitions.

"We're not," Victor said. He looped a lock of hair between his fingers to play with it. "It's kind of weird, huh. But... maybe we could just have fun together?" The words sounded oddly tentative for Victor, but Georgi told himself that it was just because he was whispering.

He swallowed. It was a new idea for him, and he wasn't sure about saying yes. It was possible it would work out, at least until he found new love again. Maybe things would be less awkward at training if they did something enjoyable together once in a while. The sex had been good. "Maybe," he said. His eyes flickered over Victor again. "You do look pretty like that."

Victor beamed at him, and they returned to their books.

When they reached St. Petersburg, Victor walked with him out of the train station. "I was right," he declared out of nowhere.

"What?"

"It worked!"

"What?"

Victor gave him a look. "You hardly seemed sad at all this weekend, and you didn't have to explain anything! I told you it was a good idea."

Georgi opened his mouth, then considered: he had hardly thought of Lyuba at all the whole time, too preoccupied with the party and with Victor and what they'd done together. He scrunched up his nose. Loathe as he was to admit it.... "Yeah, it worked."

Victor's eyes widened like he hadn't expected him to agree, and then he burst into a smile. "And you said it was dumb!"

"It was. Just because it worked doesn't mean it wasn't stupid."

Victor went _pfft_ , and then his phone dinged and he pulled it out. "Ugh, I need to get going – Yakov and Lilia will kill me if I get back late when we have training in the morning. See you tomorrow!"

"See you," Georgi said, wondering if Yakov knew exactly where Victor had been this whole time and what he'd been doing. Surely he hadn't just skipped out of their apartment in a dress?

Victor waved, and then he was gone, and then Georgi returned home himself. He dutifully told his parents about the party and how Yana had liked their present and how his aunt had provided a wonderful cake, before he went to his room.

He should have thought about his new programs. He should have gone to sleep, ready to work hard on that quad toe. Instead, he put his hand on his cock and thought about Victor.

~!~

Georgi had taken to putting on his skates in a corner of the locker room, where Victor was unlikely to bother him. Today, though, he looked at the corner and then sat down closer to the center instead.

"Hi," Victor said when he finally breezed in. Georgi was already warming up; Victor would barely have time to lace up before their session started.

"Good morning," he replied, and Victor smiled at him before he began to dig frantically through his bag for skates.

Thankfully, Victor was not as distracting when he wasn't in a dress, and Georgi had no problem concentrating on his edge exercises and spins. In fact, it might have been easier now, after having spent the weekend together, with the buzz of tension between them diminished.

The jealousy still flared when he watched Victor working on his jumps, but he felt calmer about it, too. He watched Victor land a couple, trying to analyze his technique - Victor was more slender than him in build, but their proportions were similar, so if he could do it, Georgi could do it. He told himself that as he worked by himself for a while, and then again when it was his turn with Yakov.

When Yakov skated over to him, he glanced over at Victor and then looked back at Georgi. "The two of you seem to be getting along better."

Georgi nodded; he didn't know if that was visible in the way he was acting or if Yakov at least knew that they'd gone out of town together. "A little."

"That's good," said Yakov. His praise always made Georgi feel warm, and even when it was over something like this, it was no different.

For some reason, his work on his quad went better than usual – all his jumps did. Maybe it was the break, or maybe he was simply more relaxed and letting his brain and muscles do what they need to. Georgi wrote the success down in his notebook after they got off the ice, thrilled with the result. Now he just had to keep this going tomorrow and thereafter. It was time to make his mark on the world of skating. Even if it came later than Victor's, it was going to be _his_ , and nobody else's.

One good day turned into a good week. Georgi could tell that Yakov was pleased with his progress, and that made him even happier than the better jumps alone did. He hoped that this signaled a better season for him, and within a few days, he'd chosen a quirky, upbeat song for the program he'd still been undecided on. He only re-read Lyuba's messages twice the whole week.

And on Saturday, after practice, Victor caught him before he left the rink. "So," he said, fingers wrapped in Georgi's sleeve. "Do you want to see Vika again sometime? Like tomorrow?"

Georgi didn't have any plans for tomorrow yet. Victor looked like he hoped Georgi would say yes, which made something satisfied curl in his chest. "Sure," he said. "Maybe we could catch a movie, and then, uh, go back to my place?"

"Sounds like a plan," Victor said, flashing him a grin.

They hashed out the details, standing there in the hallway, physically closer than they'd been in months at the rink. As they spoke, Georgi was already thinking of Victor in pretty fabric and what expression he would wear when Georgi pushed him down to the bed. Whatever his still-complicated feelings on Victor were, he couldn't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the less I know, the better](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26680243) by [eiua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiua/pseuds/eiua)




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